


Cauterize

by Thelittlescrimshaw



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: (eventually) - Freeform, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Slow Burn, Smut, eventual redemption arc, exploring how Snoke groomed Kylo Ren, multichap, not incest until proven otherwise bandwagon, shameless reylo garbage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-03 17:23:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6619621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thelittlescrimshaw/pseuds/Thelittlescrimshaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Electrocautery is a process in in surgery used to remove unwanted or harmful tissue. And Kylo Ren needs it, really, really, bad. </p><p>OR, "Kylo Ren, upon realizing that he has the literal Sith equivalent of Satan in his mind, decides to take action to remove it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ruiner

**Author's Note:**

> In canon, Rey is roughly nineteen and Kylo Ren is twenty-nine/thirty. I'm interested in Kylo Ren's psyche - he's been manipulated by Snoke for years; that's gotta do some damage. I'm not excusing his actions, BUT I think it's worth looking into how Snoke groomed him, and how he warped from Ben Solo to Kylo Ren. I'd imagine that Leia would want to apprehend her son, figure out how Snoke got to him, and then use that information to try and prevent other force-sensitive children from falling into a similar trap. 
> 
> Cross-posted on FFN.
> 
> Chapter title taken from the Nine Inch Nails song.

He is familiar with ghosts; he is familiar with ignoring them. One does not become the First Knight of Ren without an ability to compartmentalize, to ignore better judgement, to cut off all attachments to a previous life, to a dead man.

But the girl – the scavenger – she was not. She felt things fully, processed her emotions, had much more going on underneath the surface. He could tell that from the moment he entered her mind.

And now that a force bond had been forged, he could feel it, too: wisps of thoughts, hints of feelings, just on the edge of his consciousness, coloring his psyche. It was a ghost that had burrowed down, deep inside of him, and he was going mad from trying to cut it out, to remove the parasite and cauterize the wound.

He was banned from control rooms after he destroyed the third one. Phasma’s words, precisely, were “This equipment is fucking expensive. Take out your tantrums somewhere else.”

He paced around like a caged animal, took his discontent out on troopers, in training sessions, until Hux told him to “get a fucking grip” and to “stop killing my men” and to “go out onto a deserted planet and throw a tantrum there.”

 He opened his mouth, pointing out that he was twenty-nine years old and he didn’t fucking throw _tantrums_.

When his next outburst – caused by the girl, she was mourning _Han fucking Solo_ – rendered the lights flickering, Lord Snoke told him to “find another planet to destroy and stop massacring my army.”

His master put _just_ enough threat behind those words – pressure with the Force, weighing on his mind and promising punishment if he disobeyed – that Kylo Ren, nothing if not a dutiful apprentice, bowed his head and acquiesced.

The planet he’d found was largely uninhabited, mostly forested, and so _serenely green._ The green sparked a newfound repulsion in him: the scavenger, she’d been so _fascinated_ by the color – spent her life on a desert – didn’t know that there could _be_ so much green until she’d seen Takodana, but _this –_

No sooner had the thought passed through his mind that he panicked – could the girl read his thoughts, see through his eyes? What First Order intel had she gained, then? Had she been _spying on him?_

He shut his eyes and did his best to drown it out, drown _her out,_ mindlessly slashing his saber with one hand and tearing at his hair with another.

He didn’t feel her presence when she approached.

.

.

.

  _Some wannabe Sith,_ Rey thought derisively, observing Kylo-Ren-Ben-Solo. The moonlight streamed down on him, his red saber casting an eerie fluorescence on the clearing. She had her saber, Anakin’s saber, ready at her hip, but did not draw it. Leia had confided in her that her son had been groomed by Snoke since childhood, that from a young age, he had sensed how his father was uneasy around him. In a way, Rey felt sorry for him; in more ways, she did not. She’d spent over a decade alone, fending for herself on a desert planet, and _she_ hadn’t felt the need for patricide or mass murder.

Still, she didn’t grow up under a Sith Lord’s influence. Leia was convinced that her son was in there, that he’d been turned because of Snoke’s grooming. The General’s logic was that he needed to be captured and interrogated. Her hope for rehabilitation was slim, but Leia wanted to do everything she could to take down Snoke, to protect other force-sensitive children from the same fate.

The General was noble; Rey was not. She’d sooner have Kylo Ren beheaded. But that was not her place; so, when she’d felt the man’s intentions to land on a practically unnamed planet just inside the Outer Rim, she pounced. Finn and Poe were waiting to land and attack, to apprehend the lone Knight. Rey would call them when – and if – necessary.

She watched as he took out his aggravation on the landscape, annoyed that she could feel it tapdancing on the fringes of her consciousness.

When he was finished, he sank to his knees.

That was her chance.

.

.

.

No sooner had he sunk to his knees, spent from his outburst, than there was a lightsaber at his neck. “Don’t move.”

He cursed. In his frenzy, it hadn’t even _occurred to him_ that she’d be on the same planet – and _that_ was why she’d experienced the green. He’d let his guard down for half a second, the one time he thought he was alone, and just –

“Kill me,” he grit, and he meant it. He would die on his knees, like a prisoner. He didn’t care. Of course it would be her, the scavenger girl, to kill him. Ironically appropriate, as she was the reason he was on this damned planet in the first place.

She hesitated; he _felt_ her hesitation, her disgust. Her feelings were stronger now, with proximity. “No,” she said. Using the Force, she called his saber to her and pocketed it. “I’m not going to kill you.” His weapon safely confiscated, she sheathed her own.

What she did next was entirely unexpected: she walked around him and took a seat on one of the undestroyed boulders, and quietly regarded him. He avoided her gaze, wishing he hadn’t left his mask in the ship.

She propped her chin on her hands, skinny elbows digging into her knees. She looked young – girlish, younger than any of the Stormtroopers, younger than any of the Knights. He wondered, then, how she’d come to have such power, wondering if she’d trained in the months since they last fought.

“I’m nineteen,” she told him, “And of course I have.”

“Out of my _head,”_ he snarled, lurching forward, hand out, ready to haul her up and slam her into the goddamn stones, only to find that he couldn’t.

“It’s not nice, is it? Having someone inside of your head,” she remarked. “You’re so loud. And don’t try to kill me. If I die, you die.” As if to prove her point, she pinched the soft part of her underarm; Kylo Ren couldn’t ignore the twinge of pain that he felt, too.

She was silent, then. Kylo felt his pulse return to normal, felt the rage, the aggravation, the dire need to tear something apart. He sat, then, crossing his too-long legs in front of him, watching her.

“If you’re not here to kill me,” he said at length, “What are you here for?”

.

.

.

At his question, Rey almost balked. She wouldn’t be able to lie to him – if he was in her head, he’d sense that a lightyear away. So instead she shrugged and spoke a half-truth. “I like the green.”

Not a lie there: she did like the green.

He grunted at her response. She turned the question on him. “And you? What’s the First Knight of Ren doing in such a backwater system?”

“I wanted some peace,” he said, eyes gleaming. “Something _you’ve_ made it impossible to get.”

“You haven’t made it much easier,” she said, quirking an eyebrow. “You’re _loud._ ”

“And you’re _distracting,”_ he hissed, standing abruptly. Rey followed suit, using the rock for leverage. He was skinny, but his height dwarfed her. “You invaded my mind. You denied my request for death. You took my weapon, and for what?” He took two steps forward; here, on the boulder, they were nearly eye-to-eye. She saw the scar she gave him, running across his face, and remembered that battle.

And just then, Rey had a brilliant idea.

“I want to learn,” she said – also not a lie. “And when I saw you here, I…thought maybe you could teach me.” More of a lie, but her words threw him so much – and he was in such a state – that he didn’t even notice.

“So you take my saber?”

Rey shrugged. “You’re not exactly the safest man in the galaxy, Kylo Ren.”

A corner of his mouth twitched – in pride or amusement, she couldn’t tell. “And Skywalker? Bored with his meditation already?”

Rey smirked, floored by her own brilliance. “Wouldn’t it make sense to learn both sides of the Force? Use them both to become stronger than either side?”

“You’re asking me to train you while you still align yourself with the resistance?”

 _Damn._ Rey hadn’t counted on him thinking it through.

“I’m not _stupid,”_ he muttered, scowling, sensing her thoughts.

“I want to learn,” she pressed. “I don’t care about First Order intel. I’m with the Resistance because my friends are, because I think that the Frist Order is wrong. Not because of a personal vendetta against _you._ ”

He took a step back, eyed her. “You’re awfully scrawny for wanting to be a warrior.”

And Rey Force-hurled a sizeable rock at him, landing right on his shin. He cursed; Rey smirked through the phantom pain in her leg.

“I’m small,” she said. “I’m not weak. I can’t outmuscle you, but I’m fast. I’m clever.”

“You fight _dirty,”_ he said, with a wicked grin. “You’d make a wonderful apprentice to the Dark Side.”

.

.

.

He hated himself for it, but there was a not-so-small flicker of pride: the scavenger girl, _Rey,_ wanted to learn. From _him._ It was a wonderful opportunity, twofold: he could try to sway her, get her to fall in with the First Order, have another Force-sensitive Knight…and he could gather resistance intel, or at least try to. He wasn’t sure how Snoke would handle this information – but Snoke didn’t need to know, not just yet.

The girl couldn’t kill him, and he couldn’t kill her. He was sure that she had her own agenda, beyond learning, probably trying to gather information, or some futile, naïve attempt to sway him to the Light. But she didn’t press any of that; he wondered when she would start.

Her raw potential was greater even than his – not that he’d tell her – and he’d been inside of her head; there was equal sway for Dark or Light. If he could convince her…

“No intel gathering,” she said, “And no assassination attempts. You won’t follow me back, and I won’t follow you. Pure neutrality.”

“Until you make a choice,” he reminded her.

“My intention is to learn. Will you teach me? Do you agree to my terms? I’ll know if you’re lying, or if you intend to –“

“If I wanted you dead, you’d have died on Starkiller Base,” he told her. What he didn’t tell her was: _I squashed out enough Force potential to know how precious it is, but once you decide an allegiance this alliance is off._ “It’s a deal.”

She tossed him his saber. “Deal.”

Her excitement spilled over, washing his mind. He could practically taste it, rose-sweet on his tongue. The girl felt too much for a Jedi; he had no doubt that she’d choose the Dark Side, when the time came.

.

.

.

Rey was practically giddy with herself. She knew in the back of her mind that this wasn’t the best idea, that she was relying on a lot of _ifs,_ that Kylo Ren was a homicidal man-child who killed his father in cold blood.

But she could sense his eagerness to teach her, to impart knowledge; Luke and Leia would be glad to know that she had him eating out of the palm of her hand.

“So,” she said, “Are you going to stand there like a moron, or are you going to train me?”

“Respect your Master, _girl._ ”

Their sabers came unsheathed at the same moment, and the sparring began.

This time, he was uninjured – he was more of a match, and it wasn’t long before he had her backed into the trunk of one of the massive trees, sabers crossed. They were both panting, but he was the clear winner.

“Not bad,” he said, sheathing his weapon. “But you need work. You’re too tight, and you don’t attack enough. Battles aren’t won with defense alone.”

He spent the next hour going over forms with her, forcing her to move in ways that Luke never did, making her go on the offensive more and more. In that hour, he was alarmingly _normal._ His frenetic energy was there, buzzing at the back of her skull, but there was no outburst, not even when she accidentally stepped on his toes.

Not, of course, to say he was kind. He wasn’t warm and welcoming like Finn and Poe, but it was the first time in his presence that Rey didn’t feel in imminent danger.

.

.

.

By the end of the hour, Kylo had a grasp on where her skill level was at. She wasn’t bad, not for a nineteen-year-old, but she had leaps and bounds to go before she was a real threat.

As they paused, she yawned; the sun was rising over the edges of the horizon.

“When would you like to train again?” he asked, sheathing his saber. “I think we’ve done enough for one night.”

“Day after tomorrow?” Rey suggested. “Unless you have any systems to destroy?”

The words were harsh, but there was no animosity behind it, not really. “I don’t know,” he shot back, “Do you have any droids to steal?”

Rey rolled her eyes. “Day after tomorrow it is, then.” She offered him a small wave, and disappeared into the thick of the forest.

For a second, he wanted to follow her.

 _Not yet,_ he thought. One day, perhaps, but not yet. Her eagerness to learn was admirable, and the fact that she took him up on his request was promising. It would do not good to shatter that just yet.

He turned to his ship, and headed back to base.

He had a training regimen to plan.


	2. House of Wolves

Finn and Poe were skeptical of her plan, but her excitement was infectious. When she told the General of her encounter, the woman pursed her lips and stared her down for a good ten seconds. “Are you certain, Rey?”

“I am,” she said. “He can’t kill me, not unless he wants to kill himself too. He’s unstable. If I can convince him of how awful Snoke is, we’ll have a better chance in figuring out how it all happens, once we capture him. And if I can learn how he fights, how he operates, it’ll give us an edge. I’m inside his head – if I can extend my influence, even just a little, we’ll have him.”

Leia turned to her brother. “And your thoughts on this?”

“I think this is a slippery slope,” he said, “But if Rey is confident, I trust her.”

.

.

.

“Again,” he said. “Like you mean it.”

With a snarl, Rey lunged at the remaining tree stump and cleaved it in half; she used the Force to throw the pieces at his head, for good measure. He blocked it easily, but smirked to himself. Goading her was almost too fun – and her anger tasted lovely on the cusp of his senses. She was a natural at harnessing her anger, her bitterness, and it only took a poke or two to bring it to the surface.

She turned to him, hair loose, teeth bared, chest heaving. It is a striking image, he admits; the raw power rolls off her in waves, cloying in the summer heat.

“Better,” he concedes. “You’re getting better at letting go.”

.

.

.

Snoke does not know where he goes at night, doesn’t know why his temper has calmed; he doesn’t ask, and Kylo Ren has no urge to tell. 

.

.

.

He arrives one night to find her meditating.

They always meet in the same clearing; he has never seen her ship, nor she his own. He has taken to stripping off his cloak, in favor of a tunic and pants. This planet is too warm for so many layers.

“What are you doing?” he asks, but he already knows the answer.

She cracks open an eye. “Sit with me,” she says. “You never meditate. And you’re so _loud._ ” Her quarterstaff rests next to her; he wonders where her lightsaber is.

“I have it,” she says, and he feels a flash of irritation at how easily she read his thoughts.

“If you _meditate,_ ” she says, “Maybe you’ll get better at keeping them private.”

“We’re not meditating today,” he tells her, unable to hide the derision in his voice.

“Right,” she mutters. “Dark Side. Forgot.”

.

.

.

She curses herself, bitter that her tactic didn’t work. It’s only the third time they’ve met; she’ll convince him to meditate one day.

He regards her, sparring weapon in hand. They’ve forgone the use of actual sabers, for now; they’ve destroyed a good portion of the forest. “So eager to get inside of my head,” he muses aloud. Then, he lunges; Rey blocks him with her staff, and he growls, “Do not pry my head for information, girl.”

She maneuvers, catching him off guard as she whacks his knee. “I’m curious.”

He hisses at their shared pain and cleaves downward, forcing her on the defensive. “Of what?”

“There’s something else in your mind. Something compelling you. I want to know what it is.”

He narrows his eyes, and she feels bare underneath his gaze. “That is none of your business.”

“It’s done something to you,“ she tells him, “It’s –“

In one swift motion he disarms her, knocks her back. “ _Do not,”_ he snarled, _“Presume to know my mind.”_

Rey resists the urge to roll her eyes and point out the utter irony of Kylo fucking Ren being pissed off at an invasion of privacy.

.

.

.

Kylo’s mind _hurts._

His everything hurts, really, but especially his mind. He is shaking, his entire body aching, consumed with the urge to _break, break, break._ Thoughts of his lightsaber piercing through Han Solo, thoughts of him turning his blade onto himself, pain ripping through his very core as he remembers, remembers, remembers.

Snoke will punish him for having those thoughts.

He rakes his nails down his face, over the scar that she left him, so hard it draws blood.

There is nothing in his room left to destroy, so he takes to the training grounds, ripping and tearing until his energy is spent, until he’s poured out all of the dark, broken things inside of him and he’s left empty.

.

.

.

It’s the third night in a row that Rey couldn’t sleep; she retreated to her rendezvous point with Kylo Ren, angrily awaiting him. When he showed up, he looked haggard, drained – she felt a flash of sympathy for him for a split second, before it’s replaced with irritation.

“You,” she said, stalking up to him and jabbing him in the chest, “need to get your shit together.”

He bared his teeth, grabbed her hand, and wrenched it away from him. “Fuck off.”

“I haven’t slept in three nights because of you,” she went on, crossing her arms. “You’re so _loud._ And – and _distracting._ ”

He turned to her, eyes wide and wild, and in one swift motion had her immobilized. “Use the Force to escape.”

.

.

.

He can feel her will pushing against his, but it’s a mere knock at the door, a fraction of what she’s actually capable of. “Don’t _ask,”_ he snarls; her timidness enrages him. _“Demand.”_

That was the problem with his apprentice: she asks, is tentative; she doesn’t take, doesn’t command. She has such raw power at her fingertips, but she is not a natural leader.

“ _Demand.”_ He pushes, exerting more pressure, _“_ or you will _die_ out there, scavenger girl, just as you lived: nameless and alone.”

There’s a small flash of guilt, but it’s immediately gone when he gets the reaction he was looking for: a surgance in the Force, rising up to meet his, engulf it, destroy it. Underneath, he can taste it. He’s struck a nerve with her, and her anxieties are bubbling to the surface. He breathes them in as if they were nourishment.

And then there’s a _push,_ and she’s moving again. She wipes sweat from her brow and glares up at him. “Good enough?”

“If you want to get stronger,” he sneers down at her, “You need to take. There is power sitting before you and you refuse to cross the threshold.”

“I’m not committed to the Dark Side.” There is steel underneath her words.

“Because you fear the power.”

“Because I’m not sure which is right.”

Her retort silences him; she continues, “I don’t know what’s wrong with your head, but you’re keeping me up at night.”

“So?” even to his own ears, he sounds like a petulant child. 

“I can’t exactly learn if I’m sleep deprived.”

“You could just get out of my head.”

Something in his tone, his words, must’ve set her off, because next thing he knows, she’s gesturing wildly and pacing. “If I could, I would have by now! Do you think I _like_ being inside of your mind? The mind of a patricidal _Jedi Killer?”_

The last strings holding onto his calm are cut at those words, and he can feel the anger, the frustration bubbling up inside of him, ready to burst out. “Shut _up!”_ he screams, and it’s not just at her. “ _Shut up!”_

And in her eyes, for the first time since that fateful moment in the interrogation room, there is a flash of fear.

.

.

.

Maybe Rey had gone too far with that last comment – she can feel him beginning to come unhinged now, truly unhinged, and she is scared.  He looks over at her, over his shoulder, and his eyes are wild, amplified by the scar on his face.

.

.

.

He can feel it rolling off her in waves – she’s afraid, uncomfortable, uneasy. It brings him back to a time he’d thought he forgotten, emotions he thought he’d buried deep, deep beneath his skin.

In this moment, she reminds him of Han Solo, and he is no longer Kylo Ren, but Ben, and he is young, and his _own damned father_ wouldn’t even _look at him._

.

.

.

“Forget it,” she says, hoping she sounds braver than she feels. She whips around and stalks away, out of the clearing, into the forest, and ignores the destruction Kylo Ren is wreaking. She needs to meditate, to rid herself of demons that aren’t her own, before she can trust herself to safely fly away.

It is hard to let go feelings that aren’t yours, though, and she finds herself sitting there longer than she’d anticipated.

.

.

.

He finds her sitting by a stream, eyes closed, face devoid of her usual scowl. She senses him – of course she does – but she shows no indication.

He stands there and watches. Subconsciously, he matches his breathing to hers; he can feel her struggling to find balance, to reclaim her veneer of calm.

He watches her for some time, then, quiet as a shadow, turns to leave.

He doesn’t need her meddling.

 


	3. Head Like a Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from the Nine Inch Nails song. (Seriously, The Downward Spiral and Pretty Hate Machine albums are PERFECT for Kylo Ren.)

Cauterize_3

.

.

.

Snoke called Kylo to his cavern with the usual oppressive, commanding jerk of the Force deep within his mind. Kylo woke up to it after a fitful sleep, head pounding, thin sheen of sweat on his brow.

He dressed himself quickly. Snoke didn’t take well to tardiness.

Snoke will go days, weeks sometimes, without calling Kylo to his cavern. Sometimes it’ll be just long enough to half-forget. Snoke was always in his mind, always _there –_ not like his Force bond with Rey, but a phantom memory of searing pain, branded into his psyche.

For as long as Kylo Ren lives, he will never be able to forget Snoke.

Snoke sat on his throne. Kylo bowed, down on a knee. “Yes, Supreme Leader?”

“You have disappointed me.” The words hung heavy and threatening in the cavern. Kylo knew what was coming, braced himself for it before he even left his quarters. He bowed his head under the onslaught of shame, guilt, and disgust, all sent from Snoke. “Yes, Master.”

“Bested by an untrained scavenger,” he continued. “Tell me, my son. Is that because you are weak…or the girl is that strong?” This confrontation had been a long time coming, Kylo knew.

Kylo knew Snoke’s trick questions by now, but they never failed to make his heart beat faster, his palms sweat. He swallowed. “I would assume a combination of both, Master.”

“So you admit to being weak?”

“I admit to being shot with a blaster before the battle.” Kylo winced as the words came out of this mouth, wishing he could take them back.

Lucky for him, Snoke was amused. “Clever boy,” he said, with an ominous chuckle. The giant adjusted himself in his throne and regarded him. Kylo felt naked and powerless under his Master’s gaze.

And, without any warning, Snoke was _inside his mind,_ digging through his memories. Kylo kept a straight face, but the dread inside of him was building, came to a head when Snoke found glimpses of his nights with the girl.

“Ah,” he said, voice velvet-violent. “You’ve taken on an apprentice.”

Kylo remained silent.

“And why, dear boy, did you not tell me?”

And there it was – the threat behind his words coming to life, the very atmosphere pressing down, invading his mind, going in with long, thin fingers and scraping at everything that was _him,_ leaving him barren and trembling, pushing him to cloak himself in the dark side as his only reprieve from the onslaught.

Kylo couldn’t tell if it was minutes or hours before the pressure receded, just enough for him to grit out, “It was a private project, Master. I – I wanted to redeem myself by turning her. She is strong with the Force, and could easily be swayed. Skywalker is not nearly fulfilling her potential.”

“Hmm.” Snoke adjusted himself in his throne. The pressure didn’t cease. “And you’ve kept this from me? So you are not sure if you will be successful.”

Kylo bowed his head. “I did not want to disappoint you again, Master.”

Snoke leaned forward, and his mind _hurts_. “Then don’t.”

.

.

.

Rey was mediating with Master Luke when she felt the onslaught against her mind, as if it were taken and slammed against a duracrete wall. She could feel the Force around her shift, felt how _wrong_ everything was, nearly choked under the weight of it all.

Luke must’ve noticed it too. He frowned, and knelt before her. “Rey. _Rey._ Find peace. Do not let this disturb you. Rise above it. Barr yourself.”

Taking a deep breath, she did; when she exhaled, slamming up her mental barriers, she managed to dull the pain, close herself off to the effect of – of whatever was happening to Kylo.

“Something’s happened,” Rey said, once she recovered her voice. “To Kylo Ren.”

Luke’s mouth was a hard line, his weathered face unreadable. “Your Force Bond with my nephew is growing stronger.”

The statement hung heavily in the air. Rey swallowed. “When it was forged – it was nothing. Just wisps of things, here and there. But over the weeks…” she trailed off and shook her head, as if to rid it of thoughts that we’re her own. “He’s loud. And troubled. There’s something inside of him – something _vile._ He’s a monster.”

“Snoke,” Luke said. He heaved a sigh and stood. Rey followed suit. “Tell me, Rey. Do you know what became of Ben Solo?”

They walked along a well-beaten path. Rey loved this planet: it was green, chilled by the ocean but warmed by the sun. She resented that Kylo Ren could invade her peace here. “I know Snoke found him, and he became his apprentice. I know he slaughtered all of his peers. I know he killed his father.”

“He was my most promising student,” Luke said as they ambled along. “A natural. But he felt lost. He was lonely.” Luke shook his head. “Snoke got to him when he was eight. And from there…”

Rey turned to Luke, ready to say something, but he held his hand up. “I’m not excusing his actions, Rey. Kylo is an adult. But I can’t help but wonder what having such a presence in one’s mind from such a young, impressionable age, would turn one into.”

Rey huffed, indignant. “I raised myself and _I’m_ not a patricidal maniac.”

Luke looked at her, the crinkle of his eyes almost _indulgent._ “Of course.”

They were silent, then. Rey learned that Luke did not waste words, did not speak quickly, would not talk until he knew what he was going to say and predicted her top three responses. “I worry,” he said at length, “How this connection will affect you.”

“I _won’t_ go to the Dark Side –“ Rey began, but cut herself off when Luke held up a hand.

“I mean,” he said, and his words were gentle, “That I worry about Snoke. He is in my nephew’s mind. If Ben is in your mind, I worry how far of a jump it would be for Snoke to know you.”

Rey’s eyes widen. Truthfully, she’d never thought of that. “I – how do I stop it? Can you teach me how to block him out? Both of them?”

Luke smiled down at her. “I’m glad we’re on the same page. Snoke, I can help you with. But as far as my nephew…I can aid you in cutting him off, but he will never be out entirely. You two are bound by the Force itself. That is something even I cannot remedy. Now, I want you to keep me out of your mind while levitating those rocks over there.”

Rey groaned at the task, but she knew that Luke knew it was for show. She _lived_ for challenges he presented her with.

Neither Master nor Padawan doubted that she’d learn it quickly.

.

.

.

Kylo Ren was late to their next meeting  - so late that Rey had almost left in frustration. He arrived with his mask on, took it off with a hiss as he entered their clearing.

“You’re late,” she accused.

If looks could kill, she’d be dead. “You shut me out. I scarcely had an idea of where you were.”

Rey rolled her eyes. She ignored his words and patted the spot next to her. “Sit.”

“Why would I do _that?”_ he sneered, as if she’d asked him to eat wampa shit.

“Because you need to calm down!” Rey snapped. He actually looked taken aback by her outburst, to her surprise. “You – I don’t know what you _did_ the other day, but it’s getting to me! It’s interrupting my training. _That’s_ why I shut you out. You’re too damn much, all the damn time.”

.

.

.

Kylo would really, really have liked to have the energy to deal with Rey today. Really, he would have. But he didn’t, not today. His already-short fuse was nonexistent and hearing those words – _too much, too much, too much –_ broke the dam he had so carefully been trying to keep his temper behind.

“How _Jedi_ of you,” he sneered. He unsheathed his saber, and she did the same. “To squander out all feeling, hide it behind a mask – act like a droid –“ he swung, and she blocked – “What’s the saying?” He narrowly dodged a go for his hip. “ _There is no fear, only peace?”_

“At least I’m _keeping_ peace!” she shot back, whirling away from him.  

"I didn’t ask for this,” he hissed. He took two steps forward, and Rey stood up to meet him, saber at the ready. He towered over her, nearly an entire foot taller and much, much broader. “I didn’t _want_ to form a Force bond with a scavenger runt –so keep your grubby hands _out_ of my head!“

“But you have,” she cut him off. “And you owe it to me to stay in your lane.”

“I don’t owe you shit.” And he didn’t – the girl was already in his head, just as much as Snoke, maybe more, niggling at the back of his mind with the _light._ “If you can’t handle it, that’s not my fault. If you’re weak, you’re with the resistance, you can’t handle me _gods_ know you don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell against Snoke – “

The attack he’d been expecting didn’t come. Instead of cleaving at him with her saber, Rey frowned, arms held akimbo, every muscle tensed –

-and mentally _pounced._

She forced it all onto him, her frustration at the Force bond, her despair at Han Solo being killed, her fear for the that traitor she called Finn when she thought he’d died – and her hatred of him. All of it came swirling, tumbling out. It tasted like iron and smelt like blood. And the loneliness – the ache, for another human, for someone to just _understand –_

As suddenly as it started it stopped, and Kylo found himself on his knees. The girl was heaving. Tears were in the corner of her eyes. She clicked her saber off and placed it at her hip.

“If I can keep that in,” she said, “Then so can you.”

They did not train that day.

.

.

.

Kylo Ren half expected her not to show up the next day. They hadn’t agreed on a time to meet next, not officially, but he’d sent a small, neutral message through the Bond. He knew she’d sensed it.

He hadn’t realized how _much_ was going on inside of her – sure, he had sensed it when he had interrogated her, when the Force bond had first been established. But he’d had to dig for it. This – everything she had sent him was all on the surface, so raw he could taste it.

He wanted to know how she kept it down. He hated himself for it – here he was, even failing at being her teacher – but he desperately wanted to know. He didn’t want to be an easy target for Snoke, and truth be told, he did not want to make her life more difficult. If he was trying to get her to join the Dark Side, he shouldn’t be a source of stress in her life. _Not now._

When she did show up, he wasted no time. “Strong Dark Side users can summon Force Lightning. That will be my goal for you, I think.”

If Rey was taken aback by his eagerness, she didn’t show it. She nodded. “When will I be able to do that?”

“It depends,” he said, unable to help a small smirk. “On how much you submit to the Dark Side.”

“I won’t be submitting to anything,” she grumbled.

“Of course not.” He may as well indulge her for now. “You’ll need to learn how to harness your anger.”

“And how do I do that?”

“Snoke’s method was to prod and poke until you had no other option,” Kylo Ren said. Before she can disagree, he holds up a hand. “I’ll not be doing that. But you _will_ need to tap into your less…Jedi-like side.”

He sat and gestured for her to do the same. She spared him a baleful look, but complied.

“Close your eyes,” he said, “And think about what makes you angry.” He already had a grasp on that – he knew that he did, for one. “Tap into that. Taste it. And use it.”

She did as he instructed, going into a meditative-like state: eyes closed, breathing steady, calm but for a small crease in her brow.

“Open your mind to me. I want to make sure you’re doing it right.”

She cracked open an eye. “What happened to stay out of your head?”

Kylo ran a hand through his hair in aggravation. “That’s a topic for after this.”

“God, you’re just as bad as Luke,” she groused. “If I find you wandering _anywhere_ I don’t want you to go, you’re dead, Dark-boy.”

“Not interested,” he told her. “Now will you quit whining and just _do it?_ ”

She sighed, groused some more, but he felt her barriers slip away. Stepping into her psyche was like stepping into a stream; he could feel her thoughts and emotions flowing around him, but none were overwhelming. She had control.

 _Good,_ he thought, wondering if she could hear him. _Now concentrate._

 _I’m_ trying, she responded, and he kept quiet. He could feel their minds mingling, and did his best to keep the ever-raging storm inside of him at bay. It was a thin mask, but it was working.

It built slowly at first, then became red and hot and built to a crescendo. Her anger and resentment was a force to be reckoned with, that was for sure.

_Now use it. I want you to call my saber to you._

Rey rode the wave of her feelings into the ground, buried them, dispelled them, and called the saber to her.

Kylo’s eyes flew open. “Wrong,” he said, calling the saber back to him. “You didn’t – it was _right there,_ in your hand and you – you didn’t even _use_ it!”

“If I’d _used it,”_ Rey snarled, “I’d have flung you into a tree!”

Kylo Ren pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved a heavy sigh. “Maybe that was too much for your first try. You’d think you’d have your anger under control, being a Jedi.”

“You are _not_ one to talk for having anger “under control,” she shot back.

He opened his mouth to retort, then remembered that the reason he even met her here in the first place was because he’d been sent away to have his outbursts on a different planet.

“That doesn’t change the fact that you don’t. I have nearly two decades of training on you. I’m _allowed_ to let my control slip. The end result is the same.”

“Then what’s your bright idea for me? Wait til I’m fourty?”

“Meditation,” he said finally. “You and I will mediate.”

Rey balked. “That _can’t_ be a good idea.”

“Why not?”

.

.

.

Rey paused; she didn’t want to tell him about her fear of being discovered by Snoke. For all she knew, he’d told Snoke about her anyway. “I – I like my privacy.”

Kylo Ren snorted. “I’m not about to go rummaging around in your mind, if that’s what your worried about.”

“You’ve done it to me before.”

“As have you to me.”

Rey was almost- almost – more frustrated at this version of Kylo Ren than she was at the temper-tantrum, unhinged version. “Fine.”

She sat across from him, scooted closer so their knees were touching.

 _Relax,_ he said in her mind, syncing up his breathing with hers. _I’m not going to hurt you._

 _…I know,_ she said, and she did know – she could sense it off him.

_What do you normally sense from me?_

It was an odd question, but one Rey could easily answer. _Tantrums, mostly. Sometimes pain. The message you sent me, to meet you here._

 _I do_ not _throw tantrums._

_Whenever you’re overwhelmed, then. What do you sense from me?_

_Wisps of things, sometimes. Usually when I’m close to you. The first night we met, I could tell that you liked the green on this planet. I knew when you were mourning Han Solo._

_I do try to keep the connection as small as possible. For the safety of Master Luke, I’m sure you understand._

She felt Kylo resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _How do you do that?_

_What do you mean?_

_How do you…minimize what I sense?_

_Meditation. Compartmentalizing. I don’t_ want _you to know things, so I don’t let you._

“Are you implying that I _want_ you to know my mind?” he asked aloud, breaking the silence.

“I’m implying that you don’t try.” She opened her eyes and crossed her arms. “You, Kylo Ren, are an open-fucking-book. You’re erratic and manic and all over the place.”

“I use my emotions to draw from the Dark Side.”

“That doesn’t mean you need to make a _mess_ with them!” Rey couldn’t help her exasperation. “Honestly, Kylo, when you ditched the Jedi way, you didn’t have to throw out the baby with the bathwater! Sometimes control is _good._ ”

Kylo Ren was silent. _I’m keeping control now,_ he said at length, through the Force Bond. Rey could tell – he wasn’t lying. A façade it might be, but there was a deliberate layer of ice over the swirling pit that was the darker parts of his psyche.

_But for how long will it last?_

_You have issues keeping control as well,_ he reminded her. _Which is why we’re doing this in the first place. I am aware that I am…erratic, at times. But I can distinguish between Force-choking someone and calling a saber to me._ That _is what you need to focus on._

_Way to change the subject._

_Do you want to learn or not?_

Rey sighed in defeat. “Fine. You win. Show me how to do this.”

His smile was small and promised power. _Of course, Rey._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? I have a pretty firm idea where I'm taking this, but I'm all for input. This is a slow-ish burn, and will earn its M rating eventually (many times over.)


	4. The Wretched

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from Nine Inch Nails.

_“Again!”_ Kylo Ren snarled, but there was no true malice behind the words. Rey let out a feral noise that would have surprised her in any other context, and, with all the power she could muster, she upended an entire _tree,_ root system and all.

The tree fell with a creak and a groan, and then there was silence.

Rey was heaving, nearly shaking with the effort. She gave up and sat on the grass, letting the sweat that had formed on her brow dry. This planet was humid, even at night – even Kylo Ren had ditched his heavy outer robe in favor for a simple black tunic and trousers.

Kylo Ren looked at her, the tree, then back to her. “Next time, we’ll work on deflecting blaster bolts.”

Rey’s eyes widened and she shot him a look. “You can’t be serious.”

One of his eyebrows quirked. “Whyever not? If you can halt a person charging at you – a person with a will, no matter how weak – of their own – why wouldn’t you be able to stop a non-sentient thing?”

“You’re going to fire _blaster bolts_ at me!”

“Well, yes, that’s generally how it works,” he agreed, and, to Rey’s surprise, he sat down next to her. “You won’t be in any real danger – if you fail to stop it – which you _won’t_ – I will.”

“Thanks,” Rey said dryly. “Nothing like your sworn war enemy firing blaster bolts at you.”

“You’ll stop it,” he said, confidently. “And if you get hit, well – I survived a bolt to the ribcage, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

It took Rey to realize that this was her almost-not-quite mentor’s way of _joking._

She made a noise that was more of exasperation than humor. Thinking about that night, there was something Rey wanted to ask him. She glanced at his face, worried that it might set him off.

 _Go ahead,_ he said, voice on the fringes of her mind. _I know you want to ask._

Rey frowned. “I have my barriers up.”

“Your curiosity is overwhelming. Just ask.”

Rey took a breath. “On Starkiller. Finn said that you – that you punched your own wound. The blaster one. Why?”

She half-expected him to storm off, to not answer. But he was forthcoming – surprisingly so. “Pain is awareness. You can draw on that when you need to. It doesn’t work for prolonged periods of time.”

“You didn’t see the fight with Finn and me lasting very long?”

“In my defense, it didn’t.”

Again, his dry humor coming out. With a pang, Rey was reminded of Han. Remembering who she was around, she quickly shoved that away, buried it deep within her. She reminisce about likeness between father and son later.

“Can you…show me?”

Rey was surprised by her own desire to learn. “I mean – it seems useful. If you need that last rush.”

“Eventually,” he said. “Your hold on the Force is good. But we’ll wait for that technique.”

* * *

 

Kylo Ren won’t admit it, but was positively _thrilled_ that the girl wanted to learn his technique. It would have to wait, but at the rate she was progressing, not very long.

She was still no match for a Knight of Ren, or Snoke, but he had no doubt that she could take out a squadron of Stormtroopers if push came to shove.

And eventually push _would_ come to shove.

His goal was to train her until she was at the point where she stood a fighting chance against a Knight. They were all Force-sensitive, and they all used it to their advantage. Not all of them could stop a blaster bolt mid-air – only Kylo’s hold on the Force was that strong – but they were gifted. Not as much as Kylo, and definitely not as much as Rey, but they had years of training to fall back on.

Rey’s raw talent would not be enough.

“What next?” Rey asked. Kylo found her persistence admirable, but he could feel the exhaustion rolling off her.

He was about to tell her to leave, that they were done and he’d see her next time, when an idea struck him. “We meditate,” he said. 

He disliked admitting it, but meditating with her _had_ calmed him – at least, momentarily. It centered him, brought a respite to the perilous storm in his psyche. He sat, gestured for her to do the same.

“I’m going to try to get inside your head,” he said. “I want you to block me out.”  It wasn’t until he’d said it that he questioned the wisdom of this: if Snoke got ahold of her, he would know that it was Kylo Ren who taught her these mind tricks.

 _Then again,_ Kylo reasoned, _if Snoke gets ahold of her, we’re going to have bigger issues._

* * *

 

Later, he dreamt.

* * *

 

_In the dream, he is at peace. His head rests on her breast, listening to her heartbeat; her fingers are in his hair, and her other hand rests on his back. She’s locked in his arms, warm and alive and right, and he’d kill anyone who took this from him._

_The dream sours quickly; he smells burning flesh, and he’s not holding a girl, he’s holding a charred corpse, and his hands are stained with her blood. Her screams echo all around him, and the dreamscape changes._

_She’s held into the wall by chains, naked, head bowed, bleeding everywhere, and somehow he knows he’s responsible. She bears all of his scars._

_And the dreamscape changes, and there’s screaming, and a deep, monstrous voice that is all too familiar._

Kylo wrenched himself out of the dream, drenched in a cold sweat, touching the scar on his face.

This fucking scavenger was going to be the death of him.


End file.
